A gambling problem
by witcher241
Summary: While Cass was never a fan of soft living or soft men, being with Shae made a lot of things seem soft. She couldn't figure out whether the courier was a fool, a child, a mother, a monster or a wife. Maybe even all in one. One thing she did know though was that, if they did nothing about it, the addictions they share could well mean the end of them.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout only my OC**

**I'm not making any money out of this.**

**I'm bored and I needed something to do yada yada yada.**

**On a side note I know that I said that I'll only be doing one shots on my profile, scratch that. One shots or relatively short stories, this will of course be the latter since I bothered to put this message up.**

**Whether this is a good or bad thing is up to you, the reader, I suppose…**

**A Gambling Problem**

**Chapter one**

Shae was spending his evening at the card tables, dressed in a typical brown dapper suit, his hat gently perched upon the unoccupied stool next to him. Every new hand he received he appeared to ponder before, either, staying, doubling down or surrendering. To the card dealer it appeared as though lady luck was on the man's side as the number of his chips never truly waned, the night progressed and it became abundantly clear that he'd walk out with more than what he came in with.

The dapper young gentleman sat across the card dealer, his eyes darting from the cards at deck to the ones at hand, the gears in his head turning as he began to go over his calculations. He shifted in his seat and dealt resulting in a considerable weight atop his current winnings. His chips were piling but not so much so as to arouse suspicion. Despite the knowledge that he was guiltless of any unprincipled tactics, this offered little comfort as what only ever truly mattered was what people believed to be the case rather than what was.

A waitress came by, dressed in a bright green summer dress; she smiled, and offered him his complementary set of fancy lad snack cakes. He gave a brief thanks before gratefully accepting the pastry goods. As he opened the cardboard packaging, took a small bite of the radioactively preserved cake, Shae's mind began to wonder as to what was taking his companion so long. He set the cake down, atop a plate next to his chips, glanced at the device on his wrist, an action which in turn caused him to blink in surprise, eyes slightly widened. An hour had passed but he never seemed to notice, the time read two am.

"Where is she?" he thought

Just as he was shifting up from his stool, ready to find the answer for himself, he noticed a familiar silhouette from the corner of his eye, getting closer. The courier turned to greet Swank but no words were ever exchanged. The scowl on the Casino manager's face provided the answer he needed.

"Great." The dapper young man breathed

Shae gave an exasperated sigh, looking down, shaking his head, rubbing his eyes before turning to and picking up his perched hat. He briefly combed back some of the crimson bangs covering his face, settling his hair neatly back to the blast backed style it was meant to be in.

"Where?" He got up from the stool, set his hat firmly atop his head and followed Swank as the manager lead him back to Cass's current location.

"The restaurant." Swank replied, the tone in his voice matching the irritated look on his face.

"Fucking asshole!"

Upon entering the casino's main bar/ restaurant, Shae was greeted to by the sound and vision of an infuriated Cass, held back by three chairmen. It was clear that she was trying to maul to death the hulking figure, possessing a dark brown Mohawk, he wore a set of standard issue combat armour, worn and weathered; he was on the ground being tended to by another chairman as he clutched his blood soaked face. An open first aid kit lay right beside the member of staff.

"Just say it! Say it again you fuck!" Blood was running down the cow girl's nose along with her forehead, a bruise was forming on her left cheek, and her hat was out of place as it leaned to the right at an awkward angle. For a moment she broke free and the courier briskly approached his companion, stepping right in her path, firmly placing his right hand on her shoulder and giving a nod towards the three chairmen as they caught sight of him. The casino owners hence left Cass in his care.

"Cass, calm down." He said assertively but his presence didn't seem to register "Cass!" this time he caught and maintained eye contact.

Her breathing, at first rapid, emanating a hostile intent, had now begun to slow considerably. She spat out some blood on the ground, brushed his hand off her shoulder, wiped the bottom of her nose and sat herself down on a nearby stool. Shae went to check on the victim, as the chairman was treating his injuries, he caught a glimpse of the damage, relieved to find that it was merely a broken nose, albeit severely so, and two missing teeth. Not as bad as his initial conclusions, having taken into account the damaged wares, evidenced by all the broken glass, from the casino's alcohol supply.

The Courier reached into his jacket pocket to procure an old pre-war leather wallet, taking out a large handful of hundred dollar NCR bills, he walked towards the Tops manager, his arms crossed, now standing beside the chairman in charge of the first aid and the victim, who in turn was now sitting up, assessing the damage with his hands.

"I'm really sorry about all this." He said, splitting the bills evenly between the two men who've suffered.

"It's not the first time-" The head chairman pocketed the cash "- I doubt it'll be the last." The tone in Swank's voice gave no hint of condo nation but rather one of grim acceptance as he shook his head. The mohawked individual meanwhile snatched the bills from Shae's left hand and grumbled something inaudible as the courier turned to walk away.

"Just keep it as few and far between as possible will ya." Shae briefly raised a hand in response. He turned his attention back to the cowgirl, sitting on the stool and having found a white cloth behind the bar counter. Her forehead, now clean, was absent of any wounds, making it clear that the blood, along that area at least, wasn't hers. The ex-caravan owner's companion approached her, allowing him to take the cloth from her hand, catching the scent of vodka along with the cloth's dampness, Shae gently grabbed her by the chin, proceeded to wipe the blood off her face and sighed.

"Glad to see you've been working on your anger management issues." He tilted her head up slightly, hoping to better get to the dried blood at the bottom of her nose.

"Bite me-ah" Her friend had pressed a bit too hard, causing her to wince.

"Sorry" He turned her head softly to his left, noticing a small bleeding cut along the forming bruise on her left cheek; he wiped the wound clean with extra care. When he was done he set the cloth down on the counter behind Cass, the cowgirl gently pinched the bridge of her nose, assessing the damage.

"Don't worry, it's bruised not broken."

"I wasn't worried." Cass slurred her response, she then attempted to get up from the stool but did so a bit too quickly; this resulted in her falling back against the counter, hat falling to the ground. Shae offered his shoulder, the fact that he stood merely three inches taller, at five foot eleven, meant that doing so gave his friend greater stability for the walk home. Cass gratefully accepted the assistance; the courier quickly bent down, snatched up her hat and placed it atop her head. From there Shae shouldered her semi-conscious form out of the casino.

Half way through the trek back to the Lucky 38, Cass shot up upon a realization.

"Our guns…" she slurred.

"Don't worry I'll get it in the morning just-"before he could finish Cass pushed herself off him, doubled over an old sewer grate and made an all too familiar retching noise. Shae calmly looked around as he stood near the vomiting cow girl, unsurprised when a securitron, a cartoon sergeant's face displayed on the monitor screen, wheeled over to their location.

"Defecating within the strip's public area is a serious offence and is thus subject to Mr House's specified fine." The command came in the robot's usual metallic and monotonous voice. The image of the cartoon sergeant changed to that of a price and set of instructions, being displayed on the screen.

"150 caps and or any equivalent amount in alternative currency" it said, a whirring sound could be heard as a small metallic compartment opened up below the securitron's screen.

"Robco Username: N3M35/5, Password: 31LD_C45D" Shae said in response, another whirring sound soon followed as the compartment shut and a new set of instructions came over the robot. A cartoon butler's face appeared on the screen.

"Good evening Mr Weber, what services do you require for today?" Its tone was noticeably friendlier despite the fact that Cass was still retching.

"Erase all fines related to Rose Cassidy's defecating offences." The whirring sound followed but along with audio of the robot's internal computers.

"System memory deletion complete; is there anything else?"

"No, thank you."

"Have a pleasant evening Mr Weber" The securitron wheeled away.

Shae turned and looked at his still kneeling companion, thankfully her retching had stopped, for good measure he bent down alongside her, patted and gently massaged the middle of her back. For a moment, Cass thought she felt more of the whiskey coming back round, she covered her mouth, leaned over the grate again but none came, the soothing motions Shae worked into her back further served to help her relax and calm down. The dapper dressed young man used one hand to take out a dark yellow handkerchief from his back pocket, offering it to her whilst his other hand continued massaging her back.

"Thanks" She used the cloth to wipe her mouth clean and clutched it as she got back up with Shae's assistance.

"Your liver shot through yet?" he smiled, shouldering her once again.

"Harr fucking harr…" the cowgirl found herself resting her head against the nape of his neck, recognizing the faint scent of a particular pre-war fruit, one she'd only ever eaten as a child, the source seemed to come from his hair.

"Strawberries…?" she murmured

"Hmm?" Shae never received a response, frowning as their proximity caused the smell of vomit to assault his nose.

Cass somehow remained conscious enough to keep walking but any other part of her brain was dead to the world. Shae brought her back to the Lucky 38 presidential suite without further incident. He slightly kicked the door to his room, which was ajar; setting her down on the bed he removed her hat, jacket; boots, so as to provide better comfort to her sleeping form. He neatly set her boots down underneath the night stand beside his bed, placed her hat and jacket on one of the two cotton white sofas in the room, doing the same with his own. Finally he went back to the cowgirl's sleeping form, which had now rolled onto its side towards the middle of the bed, and draped the dark blue duvet over her.

Just as Shae was about to enter the elevator he realised that he'd forgotten the locker ticket for their weapons. Going back to his room, he briefly searched through his jacket pockets before finding it in the only breast pocket; from there he continued the journey back to the casino. As he was in the elevator, having pressed the switch for the cold casino floor, Shae removed his black bolo tie, pocketing it, untucked his white dress shirt, undid the collar along with one of the top buttons.

The trip back was, again, largely uneventful but this time, unsurprisingly, quicker than the last. Shae went in and handed the receptionist the ticket. As the receptionist went off to retrieve the weapons, Shae flicked through the options on his pip-boy, glancing at the time, he switched of an alarm meant to go off for nine am as he made his way towards his winnings.

The time currently was two forty-five am; it took The Tops receptionist around three minutes to retrieve the gear, a hunting shotgun with the words "Dinner Bell" engraved along the stock, two 9mm pistols and a well sharpened combat knife were what he came back with. The courier arrived back at the front desk a few minutes later, having taken his chips and exchanging them for another large handful of hundred dollar NCR bills, favouring them for their light weight nature.

"Thank you" he said to the to the receptionist before proceeding to put the two pistols into each of his pockets, deciding to carry the shot gun and combat knife with his left hand as he walked out the door. It wasn't long before Shae was back at the presidential suite, walking into his room, he noticed that Cass had tossed and turned. She lay on her side, diagonally across his bed, hugging a pillow whilst using the other as it was meant to be used. The Duvet still covered her waist but now the lower part of her legs stuck out as it was scrunched, largely balled and folded up here and there.

A small smile crept along Shae's face as he shook his head, setting down the weapons, he placed dinner bell along the sofa where its owner's cowgirl hat and leather jacket resided. One pistol he set down on the coffee table along with the combat knife, he then took a seat behind his desk, opening a drawer filled with pre-war magazines; he placed the second pistol inside. The courier then switched on the computer in front of him, right before getting up to get the drink he never got.

The crimson haired young man went over to the kitchen/ dining area of the suite, opening one of the two refrigerators, he took out an ice cold sunset sarsaparilla and opened it with the bottle opener on the counter beside the fridge. Shae took one long swig from the bottle and ended up depleting half its contents. Wanting to savour the drink however he disciplined himself enough to settle for small sips, upon reaching his desk the first thing he did was type in the results of his new calculations, surfing for the appropriate folder for the specific written document he was looking for.

"Seven out of ten calculations successful, April 18th 2283" he typed and proceeded to go over and record the results, while they were still in his head.

Two hours of monotonous typing passed, followed by an hour of failing to fall asleep in the unoccupied sofa, Shae could feel the symptoms slowly creep in.

He found himself, for a short time, getting up, walking out the room, pacing back and forth along the hallway but quietly so as to not disturb his friend. Eventually he sat down on the sofa at the end of the hallway, running his hands slowly through his hair, scratching the back of his head and rubbing his eyes. After twelve minutes Shae got up; walked into the bathroom to his left and towards the nearest sink. He took the large glass sat atop it, filled it to the brim and drank down its contents within seconds. Afterwards he immediately did so again but only got half-way through before his stomach began to ache and so he emptied the rest of the water down the sink, placing the glass back where he'd got it from.

He looked at himself in the mirror, this one having been newly installed six months ago, there were bags under his bright green eyes and his supposedly "beautiful", clean shaven; mix of Caucasian and Asian facial features looked exhausted.

Shae felt about as great as he looked but despite his efforts, over God knows how long, sleep never came to him as easily as it did for most. He sat back down on the sofa in the hallway; leaning back he tried to think of when it all started; the "specific" traumatic experience that prohibited him from ever resting.

There were far too many to count.

"Benny, Nipton, Veronica, Elijah, Big Mountain, Zion, the Divide…" he continued murmuring the possibilities from the top of his head, ultimately it made no difference.

He was still restless, tired, frustrated and melancholic.

He knew he needed his fix.

Shae stopped his useless mumbling, soundlessly went back into his room and opened the cabinet which housed his elite set of riot gear.

Removing his dress shirt, pants and shoes, he folded the clothes up neatly and put them on top of the cabinet, leaving him in his slim fitting light grey undershirt and loose pair of dark grey boxers. He started by putting on the cargo pants followed by the boots and knee guards. The courier ensured that the straps were fitted properly and the boots tightly laced. This strictness extended to the act of putting on the combat armour, followed by the bandolier, the armour had a habit of making his small frame seem slightly bulkier than it actually was. Slight though it may have been, the overall effect with the complete set did wonders in terms of intimidation.

Again, Shae ensured that everything was as it should be and that mobility was no issue, the right arm guard and the shoulder pauldrons went on, right after the duster, by buckling them in.

Fully armoured, Shae moved towards the weapons locker at the foot of his bed, opening and first retrieving his sword. Right then Cass began to stir, shifting against the sheets as she muttered something incoherent. Regardless she failed to wake up, Shae had merely glanced at her upon hearing her movement, not entirely sure of what he would've made of the situation should she have woken up but it wasn't likely that anything she might've said would've changed his mind.

The Courier unsheathed his katana from its "saya", taking the red grip in his hand, getting a feel back for its balance; he then tried a few practice strokes with one hand before standing in a position with both his feet slightly apart, both hands now on the grip. Shae raised the sword above his head and made a practice strike, quickly shifting position so that his body was now facing sideways; his hands on the grip with the blade near his head as he quickly stabbed, spun and shifted position yet again, all done with barely a sound. He hoped that it was enough.

It had to be enough.

Sheathing the sword, he strapped it across his back and walked back towards the locker to retrieve the rest of his weapons. He started by strapping a bowie knife to his left pauldron followed by placing a combat knife, along his right boot. The Courier then loaded his customized .357 revolver; it had a white handle with the rest of the weapon black, complemented by a gold floral pattern with the word "lucky" along the barrel. Holstering it to his right hip, he took out a 9mm SMG with an extended magazine containing sixty rounds of ammunition, he removed the magazine, strapping the weapon itself onto a space within the left side of his duster and strapped the magazine to his bandolier. The next piece of equipment was a silenced .45 M1911 which he kept in a left shoulder holster he wore beneath his duster. Finally the last weapon he procured was his "All American" Marksman Carbine, along with its scope; Shae had attached a silencer and grenade launcher, courtesy of the death dealing "gun runners" from the NCR. Taking four grenades, strapping them along his belt, he liberally stocked up on ammo right before heading to his desk, grabbing a pencil and a piece paper, he scribbled a note for his passed out friend.

The courier put his riot helmet as he waited for the elevator, switching the night vision on and off to make sure that it still worked. As soon as he was out at the casino floor, he broke into a brisk pace, eager to get to his destination.

It wasn't long before he was where he wanted to be.

Where he needed to be.

The cold stone walls of the sewer they now called the thorn offered the young man a sense of comfort, one which most in the room who have come before him never found. He sat crossed legged on the blood dried floor, his helmet next to him as he made last minute preparations, sharpening and oiling his katana. Despite it being the sixth time that night, he had to be sure, he needed the certainty.

If he didn't have it, he would die, he'd foolishly cast aside his alternatives.

He heard the rusting metal gate in front of him open; he set the whet stone down, wiped the blade with the oil soaked cloth one final time and felt his heart hammer against his chest.

"I'm a fool" he thought, he took two deep breaths, put his helmet on and grasped the grip of his sword with both hands. The Courier slowly walked past the gate, all was silent, many of the newcomers didn't know what to expect. Looking up Shae saw that there were a lot more spectators than before, a red haired woman in a dirty green duster caught his eye; he'd felt her stare the moment he went past the gate, it was a feeling he was familiar with but not one he always welcomed.

In front of him, housed in the gate on the opposite side of the makeshift arena, were the manifestations of death itself.

"I'm a fool." He muttered, continuing to walk slowly towards the centre of the arena.

Once he reached it, the gate housing his opponents began to slide open.

The heavily mutated reptiles let out a spine chilling roar in unison and immediately charged towards the armoured figure before them, scrapping their claws along the ground. It was precisely at that moment that Shae knew he didn't want to die.

The Courier closed his eyes, quickly shifting into a position sideways, feet apart; bending the knee furthest from the charging beasts. The blade tilted sideways along his cheek, ready to strike.

He had to be certain.

"Deathclaws", Shae had always found the beasts appropriately named, like death they were unstoppable, intimidating, nerve racking, without pause and they came at you far too quickly.

Someone once told him, he couldn't remember who, that; "only a fool would choose to face death, right when he's got everything to lose."

"I'm a fool…" he muttered one final time, the sorrow evident to no one but himself.

Opening his eyes, the courier felt as though something small had flicked a switch at the back of his head. From then on the world had slowed considerably, his brain perceived it to moving be five times slower than it actually was. Shae thrust forward and pierced the first beast's heart, moving three times faster than he normally would, its howl of anguish prolonged considerably. The courier twisted slightly before pulling the blade out, blood spurting all over the front of his duster, armour and helmet. Letting go of the grip with his left hand, he quickly ran around to the right of the dying beast, turning his focus to its second brother.

The courier broke into a brief sprint; the deathclaw he faced appeared to be caught off guard as it slashed with its left claw, hoping to tear the small creature's face off. Shae more than easily dodged the blow, ducking as he was close to the creature, claw just missing the top of his helmet; he stabbed it in its left knee cap. Releasing the grip of his sword, he quickly reached for his bowie knife, his right hand taking hold, unsheathing and twirling the knife handle so that the point faced the opposite direction of his thumb. Using the beast's right arm as it was disoriented; he momentarily climbed with his left hand and left leg, getting just high enough to effectively stab the creature through the top of its skull. He immediately pulled the knife out and allowed the beast to "slowly" fall to the floor.

Finally, one deathclaw remained; the implant still in full effect. A small smirk crept along the left side of Shae's lips, his heart remained pounding; booming in his ears as it drowned out the sounds of cheering. Using his left hand, he tore his sword off the dead reptile's left knee cap, charged towards the final brother, decreasing what small space there was between them. The deathclaw's position shifted, getting ready to strike with both its arms. Before it could do so the courier spun the bowie knife in his right hand, held it at the tip, aimed and threw.

The deathclaw howled, staggering backwards as its left eye was blinded, grasping the red grip of his katana with both hands, Shae didn't hesitate to drive the blade through the beast's heart, tearing across it's torso for good measure. The blood came in torrents, further staining his armour as it fell backwards towards the ground, the courier following it with his blade.

Climbing off the beast Shae stood where he was for few moments, allowing the world to return to its normal speed. The sounds of the crowd's cheers were deafening but he removed his helmet regardless, panting, clutching the area where his heart was, the adrenaline and the slight ache in his chest causing him to do so, both of which would pass in due time.

A few more seconds passed before the young man took action, drying his katana with another piece of cloth, sheathing it, he then wrenched the knife from the deathclaw's eye and made his way back to the upper floor.

He felt content.

He now, once again, knew with "certainty" that his blades were sharp enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**If you're one of the poor schmucks who've read this far, you'd probably have realised by now that the summary for the story isn't just for the sake of trolling.**

**Hopefully it'll become clearer as the story progresses and that you all will remain interested enough to keep reading.**

**As always please review, I could really do with the complements and or constructive criticisms.**

**Chapter two**

* * *

The cold metallic area of the sewer chamber, turned room, was dimly lit by the fire in a rusted metal barrel by the door, along with a lamp at the far side, beside the bed. The fire was kept alive using whatever could be found, wood, garbage, some type of fuel, it made no difference. Further adding life, was whatever song would play from the old "Radiation king" radio.

Upon entering the room, the blood soaked figure was treated to the lyrics and melody of "Big Iron on his hip" by Marty Robbins. Shae quickly walked to the sofa, stripping of his blades, his duster and the upper portion of his riot gear. His guns lay across the cushions of the right half of the piece of furniture. At the foot of the left half was an old metal bucket, filled to the brim with a simple mixture of water and Abraxo cleaner, a sponge floating along the top. The courier set his armour and blades down, right along the unoccupied portion of the sofa, picking up the sponge and squeezing some of the excess fluid out, he started from the top portion of his gear, planning to work his way down.

The tune continued to play as the crimson haired young man scrubbed vigorously, making short work of his blood covered helmet. Thorough and precise, just the way one needed to be when getting rid of mutated reptile blood. A tragic incident involving four bottlecap mines, two eggs, an angry mother; and a long trip from the nearest water source, had taught him never to let the stuff dry.

Shae was half way done with the torso when he heard the metal sewer door open, recognizing the leather booted footsteps as they scratched along the floor. He briefly glanced at the duster clad figure that entered the room, giving a quick nod in acknowledgement of her presence.

As she walked over to the mattress, setting her hunting shotgun down, Lucy smiled, her mind briefly drifting to the topic of how far her hunter had come. When he first came to the thorn, he wasn't much to look at, curious, ignorant of the arena's existence and physically unimposing. Shae had failed drastically with first impressions.

She had expected him to die after their first encounter; his "pretty face" mauled and mangled, somewhere by the kin of the creature she'd sent him out to retrieve.

But no, he came back.

He always came back; a complaint never once reached her ears.

No matter how dangerous the creature, he came and left the thorn with the same look in his eyes, one she'd attributed to a craving, he would agree to fulfil the errands without a hint of hesitation. It almost seemed as if he enjoyed the experience.

After the deathclaw eggs, it wasn't long before she started looking forward to his visits, yearning for them even. At times, it made the usual pitting of beast against beast feel like a mundane affair, including those of the matches she particularly favoured.

In addition, Lucy found his refusal to acknowledge her advances, strangely charming, challenging, not to mention extremely frustrating.

Time and time again, she left the usual social cues one would expect, a prolonged physical contact; the odd flirtatious remark, access to her chambers and even a gift after every match. However, it all amounted to nothing. At first, she thought it to be a matter of presentation, then of submission and even once concluded that he preferred his couplings to begin with a hunt. Regardless, no matter what she tried, all her efforts were in vain.

Eventually, Lucy decided that it'd be best to try a more direct approach.

Shae continued scrubbing, but this time at a quicker pace. He could feel her stare crawling all over his back, making its way down his form as its owner imagined what the lean but well-toned, muscled, body looked like beneath the undershirt, cargo pants and boots.

The courier momentarily ignored the sound of a belt unbuckling, but quickened when he heard the rustling of the rest of her clothing. He wasn't fast enough.

As soon as he started with his duster, Shae felt smooth slender arms coil around his chest. His scrubbing stopped the moment the red haired, and significantly less clothed, woman, pressed her breasts against him.

"Lucy…" the woman leaned her head against his back, savouring his presence "…What are you doing?" she was immediately puzzled when her mind registered the tremble in his voice, the longer she held him, the further it extended to his entire body.

After a few moments though, she smiled, chalking it up to nerves. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, exhaling, she persisted with her course of action.

"I already know so much. But I wish to know all of you…" she slid her hands down his torso "…And have you know all me…" her hands reached the buckle of his belt, undoing it, "…My hunter…" she leaned up slightly, kissing the back of his neck as she buried her nose into his scented hair. Shae dropped the cleaning appliance.

His trembling got worst.

"Let go…"

The Thorn's keeper felt a pair of shaking hands take hold of her wrists, pulling her grasp off the belt.

"Now!" he growled.

She let off a small yelp of pain as the young man's grip seemed to be made of iron. He threw her hands off his waist, quickly redoing his belt as his breathing turned into short, sharp and quick breaths.

Lucy stepped back, eyes wide, an uncomfortable tension filled the air; the young man grabbed his right arm with his left, doing his best to stop the shaking. Closing his eyes tightly, he took back control of his breathing, slowing it down; he gritted his teeth, calming him-self.

After what felt like an eternity, Shae turned towards the red headed woman, his hand still grasping the other. She was dressed in nothing but a small risqué piece of pink sleepwear. Lucy was taken aback by the look he gave her.

Anger evident in his eyes, however, she'd seen it before, that wasn't what shocked her.

"Don't ever do that again." He said; his voice had cracked halfway through.

It was the fact that they held fear.

The red headed woman took two steps back and turned to grab her duster from the floor, she suddenly felt cold despite the Mojave heat. Sitting down at the edge of her sheet less mattress; the young man picked up the sponge, another eternity went by as he continued his task.

"Am I not pleasing to you?" She'd slowly worked up the courage to break the silence, the pain evident in her voice, Shae never replied.

"Is it another?" she found herself compelled to know why.

"No."

"My parts?"

"No."

"Then why-"

"Lucy-" his cleaning stopped once again "just leave it…" the tremble, though slight, was still present in his voice "…please."

She couldn't deny his request, fearful of further offending him, it didn't take her long to realise the only reason that he ever spent time in her room. Lucy got up, pushing the mattress aside to reveal an old metal safe; she bent down to input the combination.

Just as Shae was finishing off the last of the Deathclaw blood, he tensed up when he felt her presence draw closer once again. However, relief washed over him when she merely placed a large roll of NCR bills, along with a bag of caps, next to his guns. Guilt soon followed as his eye caught sight of the packaging of the snack cake. Nevertheless, it once again felt safe to look at her, doing so, he saw her close the safe, moving the mattress back to where it once was.

"I apologize my hu-" she corrected herself "…Shae I am unable to pay you completely with your preferred currency."

"That's okay…" setting the duster down, he dropped the sponge back in the bucket. Shae then fished out his wallet; unrolling and stuffing the bills inside, his next move was to find a place to keep the caps. "Thank you…" he settled for an unoccupied pocket inside his duster. The courier then opened the packaging to the cake, feeding the fire the litter; he couldn't bring himself to look back at the heartbroken figure behind him.

As he made his way out of the thorn, navigating through the familiar metal corridors, taking small bites off the cake, he earned various glances from various individuals, combatants and spectators alike. Some gave knowing looks upon seeing him leave Red Lucy's chambers, whispering and chuckling to one another just when he was out of earshot. Others merely gave a wide berth, subtly avoiding his gaze. Regardless of who said what, he paid none of them any mind as he climbed out of the old sewer.

* * *

Walking through, what was, McCarran airport, squeezing past various tourists, locals, traders, packed brahmin and the odd securitron. The smell was either tolerable, like shit, metallic or nostalgic, depending on where one was. Noticing glances here and there, Shae felt a "different brand" of foolish for having brought his guns. He'd shot at nothing ever since making his journey, the lack of targets had become a reoccurring "problem" over the past two months. Still, he figured, it never hurt to be careful.

The vast market was giving the strip its usual share of gullible spruced up idiots with stars in their eyes, most having travelled from the NCR. A vast majority of them; were buying products they either, didn't need, couldn't afford or even carry. In turn, those who weren't bled completely dry, would get in line for the monorail. All of them lustful, superficial, selfish, likable in their own way and believing, in the back of their minds, that they alone were somehow "special".

They were the lifeblood of Vegas, as false, comforting and sparkly as the city itself.

Looking around, Shae knew; that, in his own way, he was no different. The only true difference being that he was under no illusions.

Carrying a small brown paper bag, the courier moved passed the absurdly long line of tourists, stretching far past the doors of the old world terminal. Some even appeared to have set up miniature camps sites, friends and family members greeted one another; most were drained emotionally; and physically in terms of their caps and libido, others appeared to be in tears. Only a few ever came back with smiles on their faces. Arguments were known to break out every now and then but none ever escalated into violence, the securitrons ensured that order was silently enforced.

Having given his voice specified codes to but one hunk of metal, Shae was given free reign to exercise the privileges of being a fellow lucky 38 employee. From then on, all of the looks he received were, quite understandably, those of envy.

The monorail brought him back to the strip on time, just as the Tannoy system said it would, it didn't take long for him to get past the check point. The receptionist recognized him instantly and simply nodded for him to go through whilst he dealt with a tourist's query. House found that a human touch here and there helped alleviate the frostbite from the cold and mechanical nature of the securitrons.

The courier made his way outside, the Mojave sun was shining, its ability to do so, rivalled only by the city itself. A generic, but relaxing, jazz tune played over the area. Unsurprisingly, it was busier than the previous night, expensive suits and dresses occupied the pavements and broken roads, taking in the sights and sounds of a city built for vice.

"Ahhh, my favourite customer…" A familiar voice greeted him on his way down the steps, right along-side the smell of cooked meat "…The one with the biggest wallet anyway.

"I suppose…" He replied, giving a small smile in return. He made his way to the well-crafted wooden shed, a miniature convenient store that now occupied a place beside the strip's most popular mode of transportation. Small signs hung across the lower part of the counter, they contained some information, but most importantly, they told potential customers of the prices of the various goods on offer.

"The usual ?" The owner was dressed in a fancy get up of a black and white striped suit, dark red heels and hooped earrings, a far cry from the farmer's rags he first saw her in.

"The usual…" the shop owner turned around to get to the mini fridge, taking out a nuka cola and a sunset sarsaparilla.

"So what's got you going all commando this time?" she took out a large, clean, empty bottle from underneath the counter and proceeded to pour the two soft drinks inside.

"Gambling"

"Again?" she raised an eyebrow at his response, kneeling down one last time; she procured a straw and placed it inside the open bottle. "…Just what kind of 'gambling' do you do exactly?"

"High stakes." He took the drink and drained half its contents, the acidic burn along with the caffeine helped alleviate the drowsiness he was feeling. The woman crossed her arms.

"You're not ever gonna tell me are you?"

"Well…"he smiled at her question but then frowned upon realising that his initial jest contained a lot of truth to it "…I don't even know your name."

"Street vendor"

"What?"

"It was the first thing you called me." Shae closed his eyes, shook his head and chuckled lightly before taking out his wallet.

"Heh right…" he checked his pip-boy; the time read 11:43 am. "…I've gotta go…"he placed a one hundred NCR dollar bill on the counter "…Keep the change, Miss Vendor".

"Like I said…" she took the note and immediately placed it inside her cash register "…My favourite customer!" he'd turned and made his way half way across to the gate, giving a brief wave of goodbye with his left hand.

"By the way, the name's-"

"uhmmm Excuse me." The street vendor was cut off before she could give him a new piece of information "I'd like the gecko kebab please." A queue had slowly begun to build up; just as soon as the crimson haired young man left the vicinity.

The courier continued sipping at the straw, steadily draining the ice cold beverage, he walked along the ruined side walk, making his way back to the tower. He stood out, and felt, like a Nightstalker in a Brahmin pen, the tourists were wary of him because of it. He was the only one with visible weapons on the strip, save for the odd casino staff member, off to run an errand elsewhere from the establishment.

Three minutes later, he was finally home, he threw the empty bottle inside a trash can, just outside the casino.

* * *

Riding the elevator up to his suite, he wondered if she was awake, judging from the eight broken whiskey bottles he'd counted the previous night, he concluded that the answer was "not likely".

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Shae made his way to the kitchen/dining area of the suite, setting the ingredients down on the counter beside the two fridges. Reaching over to a fridge, he took out two good slabs of raw Brahmin meat, along with a fresh apple, pinyon nuts and three potatoes. Setting them down on the counter as well, he took out a radscorpion gland, some antivenom and a bottle of whiskey, all from the brown paper bag.

Along with the ingredients were three bars of soup and two bottles of shampoo, together they cost Shae a total of two thousand NCR dollars, imported straight from California. It was a price he was willing to pay given the fact that he liked the smell. After laying all the ingredients out, he took the rest of his purchases across the hall, placing them next to the bath tub.

The courier then made his way to the bedroom, opening the door slowly, doing his best to ensure that it didn't creak. Once inside, an unconscious figure, on her belly, pony tail undone, was tangled up in a blue duvet along with a pillow clutched tightly with one arm, it all confirmed his earlier suspicions.

Shae took off his gear and traded in his grey undershirt for a dark blue, more loose fitting, t-shirt before heading back to the kitchen.

Cass slowly awoke to a familiar scent, the sensation competing with the fact that her brain felt like it was being crushed by a super mutant. Regardless, the smell was enough to have her exercise her will power. She got up, groaning all the while, setting her black socked feet down onto the suite's carpeted floor. Walking towards the kitchen, the open doors made the all too familiar smell, of a particular dish, stronger. On her way out, Cass noticed Shae's riot gear, sword and guns, along the two sofas, right next to her own weapons.

Making it to her destination, yawning, Cass spotted the crimson haired individual to the far left corner of the dining area. He was in front of the cooker, wearing a stained white apron over his dark blue shirt, Cass's hopes instantly shot up as she realised what it was he was likely making. She headed over to the long dining table, towards the place which had a knife and fork neatly set atop a napkin. Shae turned his head upon hearing her barefoot-steps along the carpet.

"Good morning." He smiled warmly, lightly tugging at a heart string as Cass caught sight of it. The two pieces of meat sizzled as he turned them over with his spatula,

"Morning" she groaned in response, resting her arms on the table, she buried her face in her hands, gently so as to not further damage her already bruised nose. Cass was already going through enough pain, given the fact that the brain crushing feeling got worse.

Shae quickly put down the cooking pan, walking back towards the counter; he reached over to the coffee pot with one hand and carried the mug beside it with the other. Filling the mug with its contents, he set it down beside his companion's hung over form; right along with the coffee pot should she need a refill.

"Where've you been?" she asked, face still buried in her hands as she rubbed her eyes with her palms.

"The thorn."

"Again?" she turned to face the courier, her hands now relaxed on the table; he'd gone back to the cooking pan to further ensure that the steaks were ready "Isn't that like, the sixth time this week?" A hint of concern etched itself across her face

"Fifth time actually." He found that the meat needed a couple more minutes.

"Jesus…" she responded both to him and to the pain in her head, she rubbed her temple before taking a sip of the bitter substance, slowly waking herself up "… You're gonna get yourself killed."

"Probably…" confident that they were ready; he carried the pan over to the counter, using the spatula, he set the two slabs of Brahmin meat unto a clean white plate"…But still…" his next move was to grab the large glass bowl on the counter, a type of mush appeared to be inside, he used the wooden spoon, resting inside the bowl, to give his companion a liberal helping of the mush "… That's seven minus the number of fights you've been in this week."

"Psshh…" Shae never turned to look at whatever expression was on her face, instead, he spread out the mush over the meat, reached over to a smaller glass bowl, this one with a type of sizzling orange sauce, and spread half of its contents all over the meal "So?"

"So…" As the courier brought the meal to his companion, Cass did her best to stop herself from openly salivating, eyeing the plate as it drew closer "I'd say it's pretty evident that you haven't made any new friends these past few days." He set the plate down in front of her; she instantly grabbed the knife and fork to her right and began digging in.

She closed her eyes.

As soon as she took the first bite, the meaty, mushy, crunchy, fruity, sweet and spicy sensations did wonders to help alleviate the pain in her head, so much so that she briefly forgot the question he'd asked.

"Cass?" Shae had once again walked back to the counter, picked up an empty glass and began filling it with water using the sink.

"Hmm? What?" it took her a while to remember what he'd said, Shae sighed.

"I said-"

"Oh yeah…" she swallowed part of what was in her mouth, quickly cutting him off "… Look…" she took another bite of the steak "…I said before that I 'mostly' made friends from bar fights, not that I always managed to." Cutting a slice, she piled it with the mashed potato, apple and pinyon nut mush and briefly dragged it over the sauce before putting it inside her mouth.

Shae gave her a chastising look; he set the glass of water down, right next to her plate.

"Twelve times Cass…"

"So?" she answered through half a mouthful of steak and mash, shrugging before swallowing and drinking the offered water, it helped the food find its way down. Shae sighed at her nonchalant behaviour.

"So…" he turned, making his way to the fridge nearest the work bench, undoing the knot, he took off his apron and dropped it on top of the light blue locker beside the bench. "… I'd rather avoid getting banned from the places I frequent." The courier opened the fridge to retrieve a box of sugar bombs and a bottle of Brahmin milk; he closed it with his booted foot.

"Well…" a smirk spread itself across Cass's lips "…Maybe you wouldn't get your ass kicked out so much if you stopped cheating." She followed her jest immediately with a slice of steak and mash.

"I don't cheat…" Shae took a bowl from the counter and used it as a vessel for his milk and sugar bombs "…I test to see if my calculations are valid"

"If that's what you call it." She was still smirking, the courier left the box of cereal and bottle of milk on the counter, taking a spoon with him; he sat himself down on a chair to her right.

"It's not what 'I call it', it's what I do." He took a bite of cereal, frowning as his companion's smirk turned into a smile.

"If you say so" Shae gave another sigh and shook his head, taking a few more bites, he struggled to find the energy to deal with his companion's behaviour.

"Think what you want…" he replied with a quarter of a mouthful, after a few seconds, he swallowed the chewed up sugar bombs. "Returning to the discussion at hand…" he brought a spoon full of cereal right before his mouth "…Would you care to explain what it was about this time?"

"The asshole 'accidentally' spilt our drinks." The ex-caravan owner shovelled some more steak and mash into her mouth.

"And?" She swallowed, drank some water and immediately followed it up with more food.

"He started hitting on me." Her mouth was full yet again.

"And?"

"He wouldn't fuck off when I said I had company."

"And?" a frown formed on the courier's face, displeased with the way she kept failing to fully finish her explanation. Cass took one bite before momentarily setting her knife and fork down, picking up the napkin, she roughly wiped her mouth before shrugging, staring at the annoyed look on her companion's face.

"AND I got into a drinking match, he lost, he tried convincing me that he didn't. I didn't wanna start a fight, but then he called you a…" picking up the coffee mug and bringing it to her lips, she tried to remember what exactly her opponent had said the previous night "…Something, sucking, something little queer."

"That's it?" Cass appeared almost offended at his response

"Fuck do you mean that's it!?" She set her coffee mug down on the table "Bring it in with everything else and the prick was practically begging for it!" Shae placed the final three pieces of sugar bombs in his mouth; he chewed and swallowed in exactly four seconds before replying.

"Cass…" he set the spoon down onto the bowl "…I don't think the insult warranted a skull to his face."

"Well then tell me. What insult, warrants my fucking skull, to be able to break, that shit eating prick's face?"

"I don't know…" he brought the bowl to his lips, drained the contents, setting it down, he wiped his upper lip with his thumb and index finger "…something more imaginative perhaps."

"Like?" The cowgirl returned to devouring her meal.

"Let's see…" The courier got up to put his bowl down the sink, turning back, he leaned against the counter"…Sword swallower, rape bait, boy toy, he she, cunt evader, legion lover, gun guzzler…" he rubbed the bridge of his nose "…Something along those lines I suppose. There's also-"

"Okay I get it…" she frowned and finished what remained of her coffee "…Shit I was just trying to…" Cass thought carefully about her next words "…Defend your honour."

"Right…" unimpressed, he watched her quickly return to her steak, mash and whiskey sauce "… Well I don't need my 'honour' defended; I need my friend to have a bit more self-control."

"Give me a break…" she was making short work of her meal "… I have plenty of self-control, plus it was a bar fight, happens all the goddamn time."

"Not in the strip, not with this regularity and not with the wrong people." Shae crossed his arms as he continued leaning back against the counter. Cass was scraping together the remains of her meal, making sure that none would go to waste.

"Wrong people? Don't tell me you're scared I might-"

"It's not me I'm worried about and it's not just you…" she took and savoured the final mouthful as he interrupted her "…If you recall, I have other friends, Cass, and one of the bar fights this past week didn't end with just you 'defending my honour." Her chewing stopped instantly, swallowing, she instantly knew what he was referring to.

"I already said I was sorry. Okay?"

"It's not me who you need to apologize to."

"Well, every time I try to 'apologize' he looks like he's about ready to rip my fucking throat out."

"Maybe the reason being is that when I told you to 'break a leg', I didn't actually mean-"

"I know what you meant!" The cow girl finished off the last of her water "…Just…" Cass sighed, a long silence filled the room before she continued "…Fine, you're right. Won't happen again" Shae slightly raised an eyebrow in scepticism.

"Promise?" her internal struggle was as visible as a Golden Gecko.

"Not around here anyway…" Cass regretted her answer upon seeing the look on his face "… Alright alright, just…" she couldn't bare the sorrow in his eyes "…I was just joking okay, I'm sorry." She turned her head away.

"Thank you…" walking towards her, he picked up her plate, cutlery, mug and glass "…So how was it?" she turned her head to face him, his smile had a habit of sweetening her sour moods, at the moment, it effectively competed against her hangover, however; she was also concerned of the tired look in his eyes, emphasised by the bags.

"Reminds me of why I came back" a smile slowly crept along her face; the courier turned and walked towards the sink once again, turning the tap on, he briefly left her to her thoughts as he conducted his daily chore. She closed her eyes, rested her head along her forearms, allowing the after effects of the meal to clear her mind.

However, the cowgirl's "meditation" didn't last long.

"So what you got planned for today?" she asked, right after the sound of the tap being turned off. He gave no reply

Cass jumped up in her chair upon hearing two loud thumps, one followed by the other.

"Shae?" she turned towards its origin, immediately spotting the courier on the carpeted floor. He appeared to have hit the dining table on his way down, judging from the sideways position his body was in, as well as from his proximity to the table itself.

"Shae!" she shot up from her chair, heart pounding, instantly on her knees and next to his unconscious form. Eyes shut, he was out cold. Lifting his head to her thigh, Cass checked for a pulse along his neck, immediately finding it, her relief was further reinforced upon registering his breathing.

"Shae…"She lightly slapped, repeatedly along his right cheek, just hard enough to hopefully wake him "…Wake up!" It was to no avail.

"Shit…" she muttered, dragging his "corpse" back to the bedroom.


End file.
